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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29255991">wine, pancakes, and stars, oh my</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirensq/pseuds/astraeus'>astraeus (sirensq)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Pitch Perfect (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:20:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,419</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29255991</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirensq/pseuds/astraeus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Chloe gets angry, and Beca can only deduce that she's the reason why.</p><p>--</p><p>aka, Chloe can't hold it in any longer and Beca is oblivious.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Chloe Beale &amp; Beca Mitchell, Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>150</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>wine, pancakes, and stars, oh my</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>All Beca can do at this point is stare, and she’s not even drunk. The singular glass of wine she’s served herself sits largely undisturbed on the table to her right, and she rubs the stem between her index finger and thumb, eyebrows creasing and smile glazing over on her face. She slips into another world, where her dopey smile is immortalized in her face and her surroundings are entirely still and quiet, save for the dancing woman in front of her.</p><p>After a few seconds, perhaps a few minutes, pass, Beca notices herself and forcibly removes the expression from her face. She briefly chastises herself before re-focusing onto the sight in front of her: Chloe, in all her sweatpants and Barden t-shirt glory, giving an enthusiastic performance of Paper Planes by M.I.A. Beca has to stifle an all-out belly laugh as she watches Chloe blow on her finger guns after a mock-shot at Beca. A soft flush covers Chloe’s face (likely from the wine, Beca thinks), a redness against the backdrop of red waves and crystal eyes. <em>Stunning</em>.</p><p>A few months ago, that thought would have sent her running, would have had her contorting and controlling her facial expression again. Instead, she allows the lazy smile to spread across her face again, lifting an eyebrow at Chloe and haphazardly joining her movements as best she can while sitting. As Chloe finishes the song, Beca snaps wildly with one hand and sips from her wine with the other. “Amazing! Breathtaking!”</p><p>Chloe beams and Beca feels the press of warmth into her side as Chloe settles beside her, wrapping her arms around Beca’s back and propping her chin onto Beca’s shoulder. They’re super close, Chloe’s lips inches from Beca’s, eyes closed and face expectant, but Chloe jostles Beca just enough that Beca tips a few droplets of wine out and onto the chest of her t-shirt. She swears Chloe follows the movement, but by the time she presses a finger to the shirt and raises the droplet to her lips, Chloe is no longer looking at her.</p><p>“Becs.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I love being with you,” she says sincerely, tightening her arms around Beca’s midriff.</p><p>“I love hanging out with you, too, dork,” she replies, “If I didn’t, we wouldn’t be living together.”</p><p>Chloe stills for a moment, sighing and nodding carefully. And Beca’s glad for it — those words Chloe said, they felt like they meant something more than that, and her brain is still trying to work out exactly what. But when she can’t figure it out, she soaks in the moment, finding comfort in Chloe’s warmth and feeling a corresponding warmth spread through her body, filling her with a contentedness she only ever feels during these quiet moments with her best friend. She sips another bit of wine and reluctantly loosens Chloe’s embrace to set her glass beside her again.</p><p>Chloe sighs in response. Beca frowns. “What’s got you so...sigh-y today?”</p><p>“What? I’m feeling aca-awesome today.”</p><p>Beca turns to catch Chloe’s eyes, tilting her head questioningly. “You sure?”</p><p>“Yes, Beca. I just performed for you! How could I be sad?”</p><p>At this, Beca grasps Chloe’s arms, extricating herself from the embrace. “I never said anything about being sad.”</p><p>Chloe’s eyes flicker down to Beca’s hands, and this time she pulls away completely, standing from the couch and cradling her elbows. She sighs again, and this time Beca can tell she’s frustrated, but she can’t pinpoint what’s wrong. “I’m not sad,” Chloe repeats, and this time her eyes take on an abnormal sheen, and Beca panics because she deals with a crying Chloe like, a lot, but it’s usually over a sad dog video and not something Chloe is clearly trying to hide from her.</p><p>“Well, we can talk about it, if you want—“</p><p>“I don’t want to talk about it!” Chloe explodes, and Beca is truly taken aback because an angry Chloe? She’s only seen that twice: once fighting over a pitch pipe nine years ago, and once at retreat. She hadn’t even been angry when Chicago had broken up with her over text, or when Tom had cheated on her. Yet, Chloe stands before her, face redder than before, face drawn and smile-stretched lips disappearing into a thin line.</p><p>Beca’s mind races, trying to make sense of her anger. But as she parses quickly through the moments she remembers, a stick-up-her-ass Aubrey feuding with Beca and a stick-up-her-ass Beca feuding with Chloe, she realizes that in the time she’s known Chloe, each bout of anger has always involved her.</p><p>So, it’s clear: Chloe is angry at her, or for something related to her. She has no idea what she’s done, and she racks her brain in the silence that ensues from Chloe’s outburst. Perhaps she’s been working too late and not pulling her weight in the house, but she’s done the dishes and kept the bathroom clean and done just about everything on the chore sheet they have. She considers the dinner they just arrived home from, where they had been tucked away into a corner of their favorite Italian restaurant, and wonders if she said something that didn’t sit right with—</p><p>Chloe interrupts her thoughts. “Sorry, I really...I think I’m just drunk. And tired. And stressed. I think I’m gonna head to bed.” She sighs again, and it’s like the anger burrows itself back into her, hiding away for another time. Her shoulders remain tight, and she sets her jaw and turns for her room. “G’night, Beca.”</p><p>It is a small semblance of normal in the midst of Beca’s confusion, so she responds with a meek “Goodnight, Chlo.”</p><p>Beca reaches over for her wine and downs it in one fell swoop. Her eyes travel the room to the place where Chloe had been dancing. How quickly the night had changed.</p><p>Only then does she notice the bottle of wine Chloe had uncorked earlier, barely started, and Chloe’s untouched wine glass beside it.</p><p>Beca goes to bed because if she thinks about Chloe lying to her right now, she might explode, too.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Beca tries not to think about it for the next few days, and she fails. For one, they live together; Beca sees Chloe every morning, who wordlessly goes about her routine and offers nothing but small talk and placating smiles. The most telling part, however, is that Chloe hasn’t found her way into Beca’s bed in a few days. Beca could usually count on Chloe slipping under her sheets, muttering a quiet, “Couldn’t sleep,” at least once a week, but Beca hasn’t felt the bed shift for Chloe in seven days. She’s been keeping track.</p><p>On the morning after the seventh night, Beca wakes to the smell of coffee and pancakes. Despite her downright confusion at the whole situation, she rises out of bed and pads into the kitchen, restless from lack of sleep and hair in a loose bun.</p><p>(She can sleep just fine without Chloe, thank you very much, but the anxiety over this weird non-argument is killing her.)</p><p>“Hey,” Chloe greets as Beca enters the kitchen. Beca is looking down at first, but looking down entails seeing Chloe’s bare legs, and she doesn’t want to make things more awkward than they already are. Her eyes snap back up to Chloe leaning against the counter. She mumbles a “g’morning” as she pours coffee from the pot Chloe made.</p><p>Chloe just...waits. It’s unnerving, so Beca mirrors Chloe with a mug tucked between her palms. Thank god, because she’d be fidgeting if it weren’t for the damn “Bellas 4ever” mug that Aubrey had bought her as a joke during their move to LA a few weeks prior. She brings the mug to her lips, blowing gently and using the opportunity to glance at Chloe’s face.</p><p>Chloe looks like she does after workouts with Aubrey — exhausted and looking a little bit like she wants to puke – except Aubrey is solidly hundreds of miles away. The bags under her eyes swell out from her face, connecting reddened eyes to purple skin to red cheeks.</p><p>Beca thinks the two of them might look awfully similar.</p><p>Chloe catches Beca looking and offers her the smallest of smiles. “I made some pancakes,” she offers quietly, turning to grab a full plate and something from the pantry next to her before extending the contents of her hands out to Beca.</p><p>In Chloe’s right: chocolate chip pancakes and a small cup with cinnamon maple syrup. In Chloe’s left: cinnamon coffee syrup and milk. In short: all of Beca’s favorite things in the world, present from the mug of coffee at her chest, to the opposite counter that Chloe rests her hips against.</p><p>Pretending she’s not choked up by the gesture, she takes the items with a relieved, “Thank you,” and turns her back to Chloe to create her coffee concoction. It also gives her time to consider what comes next because Chloe has basically dug up an olive tree and thrown it at her, and everything feels off-kilter right now. Should she just pretend like nothing happened, like Chloe’s outburst...</p><p>“Okay, what happened?” Beca releases the words that have been at the tip of her tongue for a week now, dropping her mug to the counter with a clatter and whipping around to look at her. “I appreciate the gesture, Chlo — the pancakes, the coffee, all of it — but, you know, this means nothing to me if something is hurting you and you refuse to talk about it.”</p><p>Chloe’s face twists from apologetic to fearful to exasperated in record time. Chloe might have been a wonderful choreographer for the Bellas once upon a time, but nothing compares to the dance of emotions across Chloe’s face. She draws in a breath, and she says six words that make Beca hate herself.</p><p>“I’m tired of waiting for you.”</p><p>Beca’s heart drops. “Wh—What?”</p><p>Chloe shrugs, shoulders tight and face pinched. “Beca, I’ve liked you for over eight years now.” She pauses. “No, that’s not quite right. I’ve been in love with you for eight years, and I don’t know if I can keep doing this when you brush off all of my attempts to love you.”</p><p>“Chlo, I had no idea—“</p><p>“How could you not, Beca? What do you think last Friday was?”</p><p>Beca, frozen in place but desperate to say <em>something</em> to Chloe, responds, “Last Friday — last Friday was our date night.”</p><p>“Yes,” Chloe says slowly, and Beca bristles at her tone. “Our date night. That we’ve been having for weeks since we moved to LA together. And you haven’t kissed me once.”</p><p>“I—“ Beca splutters. “You haven’t kissed me!” She thinks of Chloe’s chin on her shoulder, a spilled wine distraction, and suddenly she realizes—</p><p>“I thought we were taking it slow. Extra slow, apparently, but I tried to kiss you and you moved away from me,” Chloe says bitterly. “If you didn’t want anything from me, you didn’t need to lead me on. God, I thought...I thought we would be something.”</p><p>Chloe’s dejection pulls Beca out of whatever paralyzed state she was in. Now that Beca knows, she can’t let it go. Now that she finally feels it in the palm of her hand, slipping through her fingers, she knows enough to cup her hands and catch and cradle the remains. “Chlo, I’m in love with you, too.”</p><p>All that does is draw a disbelieving laugh out of Chloe, a wet laugh drenched in her tears. “Could have fooled me.” Beca thinks of catching and cradling and cupping until suddenly, cupped hands rest on the side of Chloe’s face, thumbs brush away tears, and lips meet in the stains that remain.</p><p>If Beca had thought these were remains, this is ash. The kiss rises from the rubble, doused in fire, and Beca soars up above. Her thumb unconsciously continues its gentle movement across Chloe’s skin, and Chloe reaches for Beca’s waist as if it keeps her from flying away. Beca pushes one hand back to the nape of Chloe’s neck before she breaks off, keeping Chloe’s forehead rested against hers by the hand against her neck. “I’ve wanted to do that for eight years,” she breathes.</p><p>Chloe’s oceans stare back at her, blown wide. Her breath comes in quick pants. Her hair looks wildly out of place, and salt clings to her face from her tears. “Why didn’t you do this <em>weeks</em> ago?” she demands breathlessly.</p><p>Beca laughs quietly. “I had no idea that these were — that this was us dating. We’ve always had girl nights.”</p><p>Chloe frowns, but she tightens her grip on Beca’s waist. “These were date nights, Becs.”</p><p>“I had no idea there was a difference,” Beca replies, “I’m sorry. It was dumb of me.” She tips her head forward, brushing her lips against Chloe’s once again. “I’m so sorry. But I’m prepared to spend a lot of time making it up to you, if you’ll have me.”</p><p>This time, instead of tightening her hands onto Beca, Chloe loosens them. It almost makes Beca panic, but then Chloe pulls one of Beca’s hands away and locks their hands together, bringing them to her lips and dropping a kiss. “I’d like that very much.”</p><p>Beca cracks what feels like her first genuine smile in a week and envelops Chloe in a hug. “I’m going to finish these pancakes that you made me,” she says, “and we’ll talk about date night and how I get to spend the foreseeable future making it up to you.”</p><p>Beca can feel Chloe’s nod and the way she sags with relief into Beca as if this embrace is the only thing that has been real. Beca closes her eyes and basks in the embrace, knowing that this moment is a promise of the future to come, knowing that Chloe is basking in this reality as well.</p><p>They sway for a while and then break away, unsure of what to say next. Their eyes lock, and Beca sees something there, a twinkle that—</p><p>She’s sputtering, face covered in a white powder, and Chloe’s eyes crinkle to betray the grin and ensuing laugh she tries to hold back. A twinkle of mischief, resulting in pancake mix to the face and another powdery kiss in the kitchen.</p><p>The twinkle was mischief and love, after all. And if that thought helps Beca justify kissing errant pancake batter off of Chloe’s face, well. Chloe’s gaze twinkles like a star that Beca can’t help reaching for.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thanks y'all, hope you enjoyed. i'm no writer but i'm clearly in love with these two. i'm planning to return to my humorous takes on these two for the next fic.</p><p>as always, catch me on tumblr as charmills.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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